


how do you solve a problem like

by heart_nouveau



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/F, Maria Hill is a BAMF, Pepperony bleeds into this a lot, Slow Build, Where is all the Maria/Pepper in this fandom?!, eventual Steve/Tony, so I decided to write some
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 05:17:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heart_nouveau/pseuds/heart_nouveau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“And SHIELD protocol mandates that you address me as Agent Hill,” Maria said, raising one eyebrow in a way that Pepper was almost sure was supposed to show levity. “But off the record, Maria is fine.”</p><p>“All right.” Pepper couldn’t help but be a little taken with this focused, stern woman, with her rare smiles and nearly unreadable demeanor. It was a little less confusing if you realized that her default expression was a frown and her different emotions were expressed only by the minutest facial variations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	how do you solve a problem like

            Extreme discomfort was not a state of being familiar to Pepper Potts, but this Thursday morning board meeting was proving an exception to that rule. Usually, meetings with the eighteen senior board members of Stark Industries were satisfying exercises in Pepper’s CEO power. Successfully defending the enormous amount of money that Tony Stark had just funneled into a brand-new project without even _telling_ her about it until today, however, was really taking it out of her. She hadn’t even been aware of the mystery project’s existence until the errant mastermind of Stark Industries  (and her boyfriend of nearly two years) had called her in typically cryptic fashion before dawn that morning.

            “It’s 5 A.M.,” she’d said groggily into her cell, hitting speaker to avoid the extra effort of lifting the phone to her ear.

            “Hey, Pep, listen.” Tony was talking a mile a minute, so he must have stayed up all night, hopped up on black coffee. The steady bass of his workshop music thumped in the background. “You’ve got the board meeting today, right? Thursday?”

            Pepper rubbed her hand over her face. “Yes, Tony, it’s Thursday. Five a.m. on Thursday. Now tell me what you want so I can finish getting my seven hours.”

            “Sorry.” Tony paused. “I thought you’d be up. You get up early. Okay, look. I’ve started this new project and it’s a _little_ more expensive than previously estimated, so… I had to divert some SI funding into it. Long story short, I’ve been getting some angry phone calls, ignoring them of course because that’s _your_ area, but you should probably expect some board members with their panties in a twist today.”

            “You diverted Stark Industries funding into a personal project?” Pepper echoed, disbelievingly.

            Tony’s voice sounded affronted. “Not personal. It’s a project under the Stark Industries umbrella.”

            “What… what…” Pepper sat up in bed. “What kind of project is this, Tony? And how much money are we talking?” All of Tony’s Stark Industries projects were funded from the company pool, so it was unusual that board members would be upset about it. The general understanding was to let Tony have free reign.

            “Just a project. Not sure of the dollar amount off the top of my head. I, ah, just wanted to let you know that emotions might be running a little high—wouldn’t want you to be blindsided or anything.”

            “But if I don’t have any details, what am I supp—”

            “Got to go, love you too,” said Tony’s voice quickly, and the call ended.

            Pepper put her phone down and stared at it. Well, after _that_ , she certainly wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep.

            Of course, Tony was absent at the meeting. Pepper could count the yearly number of board meetings Tony showed up to on one hand—come to think of it, she couldn’t even remember the last meeting he _had_ attended. So here she was, alone and feeling beleaguered, pretending to know exactly what she was talking about whereas she had been just as shocked as the rest of the board to hear the exact amount of money Tony had “redirected.” And also where he had diverted it from. _What the hell, Tony?_

She clicked her Blahnik heel against the leg of her chair and listened, wincing internally, as a silver-haired board member voiced his complaints. “I have no problem with Mr. Stark pursuing his personal interests on the company dime when the monetary amounts are reasonable, but _80 million dollars_ , drawn from stockholders’ shares, without prior authorization or submitted proposal—for a project on which he provides no details? It’s ridiculous! Not to mention the fact that Stark Industries is no longer leading in several arenas. Diverting this amount of funds could substantially affect our profit margins in the next fiscal year, and, frankly, that’s not something we can afford. If we consider the annual…”

After this, Pepper thought, she deserved a break. She mentally checked her schedule—no meetings until 1:30. She’d take lunch and go to Barney’s, which she usually felt too stereotypical doing, but after this headache of a meeting she deserved it. And she’d buy something very expensive. Using Tony’s credit card.

The board member continued. “As I’ve said repeatedly, Stark Industries would do well to return to arms manufacturing. We were the unprecedented leader in the field, and profit margins were never higher.”

Pepper suppressed an eye roll. This particular board member had been around since Tony’s father’s era, and never missed a chance to advocate for a return to the good old days. If the board was finally moving back to tired topics, though, it meant the ire over Tony’s mystery project had died down somewhat. “Mr. Koch,” she said pointedly, “we are all aware that since Mr. Stark’s experiences in the Middle East, he’s been perfectly clear in his wishes that Stark Industries permanently cease its work in arms manufacturing.”

Koch huffed with displeasure, but finished up his speech. She waited for him to take his seat before rising herself. “Thank you all for your input,” she addressed the table, with her best innocuous CEO smile. “I’ve taken note of everything that has been said, and believe me, will give each point complete consideration. Until further notice, I will see you all at our follow-up meeting on Tuesday.” Gathering up her papers, she nodded and smiled like an automaton at the board members filing out. _Thank God that’s over_. It was a three-hour lunch for her, and she wasn’t stepping foot back in Stark Tower until she was fully relaxed. And _then_ she would deal with Tony.

She went up a floor to drop off her briefcase in her office and grab her coat. Briskly crossing her waiting room on the way to the elevator, she was surprised when a lean form in a business suit rose from a chair to greet her. “Miss Potts?”

Pepper stopped short. The person was a tall woman with steely blue eyes, dark brunette hair swept into a low knot, and a look of cool determination. She looked vaguely familiar—Pepper knew that face from somewhere.

“Yes?”

The stranger extended her hand. “Agent Maria Hill, of SHIELD. We haven’t officially met, but—”

Pepper snapped her fingers. “That’s right!” _That’s_ where she’d seen this woman: seated across the conference table at the handful of SHIELD meetings she’d attended. Tony and the rest of the Avengers team went twice a week (or were officially obligated to, anyway), but as CEO of Stark Industries, Pepper’s presence wasn’t always required. On the business end of things, Stark Industries and SHIELD were a narrowly overlapping Venn diagram with only Tony Stark and his intelligence designs in common. Which explained why this was the first time she’d had a real conversation with this woman.

“You’re usually, ah, wearing blue,” she said, referring to the SHIELD uniform. Maria’s pantsuit was nice, though, an unobtrusive charcoal wool blend. Theory, maybe? Or Donna Karan? Pepper was always interested in what other businesswomen—or as the case may be, intelligence agents posing as businesswomen—were wearing. She flicked her eyes over the fabric before realizing that she’d just given the woman an once-over.

Maria’s eyes stayed trained on Pepper, strictly professional. “I didn’t want to stand out. Despite the plainclothes, though, I _am_ here on SHIELD business. It’s come to our attention that Mr. Stark has, very recently, begun a new enterprise under the umbrella of Stark Industries.”

Wonderful. SHIELD knew about the mystery project and she didn’t. Pepper started mentally running down the list of punishments Tony deserved for putting her at this kind of disadvantage.

“I was just in a meeting on that very project,” she said easily, masking her annoyance. “Seems like it’s the talk of the town.”

Maria raised her eyebrows. “Well, with an undertaking of this type, it’s critical that SHIELD be part of the conversation.”

Okay. So SHIELD actually knew what Tony was up to. “I can assure you that Mr. Stark has the situation completely in hand,” Pepper bluffed smoothly.

The agent nodded, totally undeterred by Pepper’s sleek corporate rebuff. “I know this is last minute, but I’d like to request a meeting to discuss the issue. Your secretary said that you had a free couple of hours.”

Pepper whipped her head around and glared at her assistant, who blanched visibly. Sofia _knew_ better than to do that—she was specifically trained to clear all appointments with Pepper! Behind her, Maria cleared her throat, sounding like she might just be the slightest bit amused. “I’d like to disclose that I might have unfairly forced my hand to get that information. She was very reluctant to violate protocol. So go easy on her.”

Pepper turned back to the SHIELD agent, distinctly irritated. This woman had not only just out-informed her, she’d gotten her secretary to break the rules _and_ made Pepper look like a dragon lady. Plus, Pepper’s head hurt, and she was very ready for a break and some lunch. So the next words out of her mouth were a surprise even to her:

“I was just about to go out, actually. How would you like to make it a lunch meeting?”

 

 

Another strike against Maria Hill was that her presence meant Pepper couldn’t go to her favorite spot in Chelsea Market for a lobster roll and a beer. There were standards for business meetings that, even in pique, Pepper wasn’t about to violate. Instead, they wound up at a tiny, modern sushi place tucked just around the corner from Stark Tower.

Pepper studied the other woman as they ordered. She was attractive, with strong cheekbones and those cobalt blue eyes. Everything about her spoke of clipped, sparing efficiency. And she was observant, subtly casing the entire restaurant in a few sweeping glances by the time the hostess led them to a corner booth. None of that changed the fact that she’d just added another problem to Pepper’s already problem-filled day.

“It’s nice to finally be introduced, Agent Hill,” Pepper stonewalled pleasantly, flashing her best business meeting smile over the top of the lunch menu. The longer they put off talking about Tony’s top-secret project, the better. “Those SHIELD meetings never did much for me, to be perfectly honest.”

“It’s a common complaint,” the agent said.

“May I ask why you’re the one SHIELD assigned to this particular case?” Pepper asked neutrally. She studied the woman’s stance, the way her body stayed alert even while seated. “Phil Coulson usually liaises with the Avengers when necessary.”

Maria raised her eyebrows. “That’s true. However, seeing as Agent Coulson is currently undergoing mandated inpatient recovery and physical therapy in a Colorado clinic, I’ve been named the replacement liaison to the Avengers for the interim. I’ll be acting out of SHIELD’s New York office until I get reassigned.”

Pepper frowned. “Phil’s still in therapy for his wound?” Tony had told her about all about the dramatic furor caused by Coulson’s presumed death.

“Yes, he is.” Maria’s fingers drummed the table.

“How is he doing?”

“By all reports, he’s recovering without any complications.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Pepper said honestly. “I’ll be sure to let Tony and the others know. Would you happen to have the clinic’s address?” she added as an afterthought. “I’d like to send him some flowers.”

Maria’s brow furrowed; she looked, oddly, almost angry. “He’s currently at a SHIELD facility in an undisclosed location.”

Pepper felt a stab of irritation. What was wrong with this woman? After all Phil had done for the Avengers, the least he deserved was a thank-you card. There was no need for the sourpuss theatrics. She could just ask JARVIS, Pepper realized; Tony hacked the SHIELD database every time he set foot into one of their facilities. Still. Pepper decided to use the issue to get the measure of this agent. Not letting her neutral expression budge an inch, she said pleasantly, “Well, maybe I could send them to him care of you. Would that be better?”

“I’m afraid it’s not appropriate with SHIELD procedure,” Maria said, impassive.

            “Mmm,” said Pepper. She tried to think of something else to say.

She couldn’t resist a sigh of happiness when their orders arrived with perfect timing, not just for the welcome interruption to the stilted conversation, but also because _food_. She bit into a piece of creamy raw yellowtail and exhaled blissfully. Oh, she was going to expense the hell out of this _and_ get dessert. Tony would be paying for his crime of omission both literally and figuratively.

“So I understand you’ve been CEO of Stark Industries for a little over a year now,” Maria said, not touching her food. 

Pepper stifled a sigh. She missed Phil. “Yes, and during that time Phil Coulson was our acting contact to SHIELD. For longer then that, actually—he’d been meeting with Stark Industries for years, since Tony created Iron Man. I consider him an excellent business colleague, and, more than that, a good friend.” She pushed a little harder. “Which is why it would be very considerate of you to share his mailing address.”

Maria looked at her, totally unmoved. “As I said, it’s not in line with SHIELD procedure.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, the man literally put his life on the line for the Avengers,” Pepper snapped, unintentionally losing her cool. “The least we could do is send him a thank-you card, and the least _you_ could do is help us facilitate that.” She fished to maintain a semblance of professional calm. “Excuse me. It’s just that… we owe him. And, as a member of Stark Industries, it’s getting a little tiring to be told to work with SHIELD when all we’re getting from _your_ end is this exact kind of willful obfuscation.” She bit the inside of her cheek to control her temper. “Again, excuse me.”

Maria poked at her octopus seaweed salad. When she finally spoke, her tone was slower, more deliberate. “I understand that you miss him. You’re not alone. At the moment, however, Agent Coulson’s rehabilitation is a very sensitive topic at SHIELD.” She paused, as though searching for the right words. “Faking Coulson’s death was Commander Fury’s idea. Which I didn’t agree with, initially. It wasn’t until it actually worked, uniting the Avengers against Loki and his alien forces, that I believed it had been the right thing to do.”

She set her jaw. Pepper watched her intently across the table, noting the greater intensity with which she continued. “The question’s been wearing on me: what kind of team needs to be forged under the illusion of someone’s death? They’re six very, _very_ different people. Some aren’t even human. Yes, they fought, united, against the Chitauri, but who’s to say how well their team will work in the future? It’s been three weeks since that attack, and no new team objectives have arisen.”

“You’re right,” Pepper said. Maria looked up at her. “Really, you’re right. I’ve been working with them on-and-off for the past few weeks, since the team is Tony’s current major focus, and it’s been… interesting, to say the least. They’re a diverse group.”

Maria sighed, looking deeply vexed. “Well. To answer your—”

“I don’t know what Tony’s project is about,” Pepper admitted spontaneously. Maria looked up, surprised. “He called me at the crack of dawn today, saying that he’d diverted some Stark Industries funds, but refusing to tell me why, or how much. So I just spent an hour and half defending his actions to a panel of extremely unhappy board members without any specifics. And then _you_ popped up and I had to play defense all over again. So I apologize for my bad mood,” she finished, with a nod of concession to the other woman.

“I understand.” Maria smiled, suddenly. It was a very small smile, just the corners of her mouth, but its warmth and the light it brought to her eyes were striking. Pepper smiled back instinctually. Maybe this was a woman she could talk to.

“Tony’s not allowed to keep secrets from me,” she explained matter-of-factly. “I mean, most of the time I just find things out before he gets the chance to tell me. But the _last_ time he kept a secret like this, the palladium in his arc reactor was poisoning him and he thought he was going to die. He fixed that problem,” she added, noticing Maria’s look of surprise.

“I see,” said the SHIELD agent, after a moment. “So it’s significant that you don’t know about this new project.”

“Exactly.”

Maria exhaled, looking a little ironic. “Well, I can’t say that I expected to be the one doing the explaining today. Here’s what SHIELD knows: Mr. Stark has diverted funds to the tune of $80 million into his latest project. We’ve tracked increased shipments to Stark Tower of iridium, potassium salts, and other elements commonly used in defense projects.”

Pepper frowned. “But Stark Industries stopped manufacturing weapons two years ago. The only defense capabilities Tony now conducts are the designs for SHIELD…”

“Which we at SHIELD are supposed to be informed about in a routine, timely manner,” Maria finished. “So it could be that Mr. Stark simply forgot to tell us about his plans, _or_ he could be keeping them quiet for other reasons.”

“And he hasn’t told _me_ ,” Pepper said grimly. “Well. Come by Stark Tower if you plan to question him. I certainly plan to.”

Maria regarded her with a look of respect. “Miss Potts, I think we are going to be able to help each other.”

“Call me Pepper, please,” she said.

“And SHIELD protocol mandates that you address me as Agent Hill,” Maria said, raising one eyebrow in a way that Pepper was almost sure was supposed to show levity. “But off the record, Maria is fine.”

“All right.” Pepper couldn’t help but be a little taken with this focused, stern woman, with her rare smiles and nearly unreadable demeanor. It was a little less confusing if you realized that her default expression was a frown and her different emotions were expressed only by the minutest facial variations.

Maria stood. “I guess I’ll be seeing you at Stark Tower.”

“Wait.” Pepper pulled out her Starkphone and opened a new screen. “You didn’t give me Phil’s address.”

Maria paused. “I don’t remember agreeing to.”

“You help me, I help you,” Pepper said with a little smile, tapping her fingers on the side of her phone. “Spill.”

Maria made what sounded like an amused noise. “All right.” She pulled a tiny device from her pocket, leaned down, and tapped it against Pepper’s phone. An address sprang to the screen, glowing in blue capital letters. “Just let me know before you send anything, and I’ll make sure you get the proper security clearance.”

“Thank you,” said Pepper, satisfied. “I take it you gave me your contact information with that little—thing.”

“You have my secure work email.” Maria glanced toward the door.

“Wonderful. One more thing.” Pepper waved the dessert menu at her. She had some expensing to finish, after all. “How does tempura green tea ice cream sound? Tony’s treat.”

 

 

She saw Maria Hill again much sooner than she’d expected: just the next day, in the kitchen of Avengers Tower. Document case in hand, Maria appeared to be in the middle of confronting a very truculent Tony. This time, the SHIELD agent wore a pencil skirt, blue button-down blouse, and an irritated expression. When she looked up to see Pepper in the doorway, though, her face involuntarily gave way to a genuine smile, like the sun breaking across a clouded sky. Pepper smiled back immediately, feeling glad for their alliance.

Tony turned his head from his seat at the kitchen table and whistled admiringly. “Pep, you must have magic powers. I didn’t even know this one was capable of smiling.”

She cuffed him lightly on the shoulder as she walked in. “Tony, that’s rude. Hello, Maria.”

“Pepper, it’s good to see you again.” The agent responded, with a note of warmth that faded instantly as she refocused her attention on the seated superhero. “Now, Mr. St—”

Pepper held up her hand. “He hasn’t finished his coffee. Believe me, you won’t be getting anything out of him until he’s fully satisfied his fix.”

“It’s 2 p.m.” Maria straightened, looking incredulous.

Pepper edged around the table and studied Tony’s face from the vantage point of the stove. “Well, I think he just woke up, so trust me. He’s generally nocturnal.”

Tony cleared his throat. “Excuse me, can we not talk about me like I’m not sitting right here? ‘Cause, you know, I _am_ right here.”

Pepper picked through the cupboards and pulled out a box of doughnuts.

“Besides,” Tony added, “I was up last night working.”

Pepper plopped a glazed old-fashioned on a plate, slid it across the table to him, and straightened, hands on her hips. “Oh, were you? Working on that _top-secret project_ on which you have yet to give me _any_ details? Is _that_ what you were working on?”

Hearing the warning note in her voice, her boyfriend looked justifiably sorry. “All right, look. I know that it was unfair of me to—”

“Throw me in front of the board to defend your back when I had no idea what I was defending?” Pepper stared him down. “That sounds about right.”

They actually hadn’t gotten a chance to speak after their phone call yesterday—Pepper had been tied up at work until late, and Tony hadn’t come to bed while she was sleeping. So she was going to put him through the wringer now, on the spot, with the added bonus of Agent Hill here for backup.

Tony tried to rise. “Look—Pep—”

She pointed a warning finger at him at the exact moment that Maria’s hand on his shoulder pushed him gently back down into his seat. Secretly amused, Pepper picked up the coffeepot and crossed to the table. “How many cups have you had?” she asked.

Tony made an exasperated noise and crossed his arms over the glow of the arc reactor. “C’mon, Pepper, just let me expl—”

She leaned over to top off his cup, steam issuing from the kettle as she poured. “Finish that, and eat your doughnut. We need you wide awake, because you have a lot of talking to do. Coffee, Agent?” Catching the conspiratorial glance she gave Maria, Tony narrowed his eyes.

“No, thank you, Miss Potts,” said Maria, seating herself at the head of the table. She gave Tony an icy smile. He looked actually shocked, then rolled his eyes and stuffed his mouth with a giant bite of doughnut.

“’Snot fair f’r you t’duvveltim muh,” he said. He gulped some coffee and repeated, “I said, it’s not fair for you to double-team me.”

“Oh, don’t you wish,” snorted Natasha from the door. The redheaded assassin swept in, looking endearingly collegiate in black leggings and an oversized cardigan that no doubt concealed a multitude of deadly weapons. “Hello, Pepper. Agent Hill.”

“Agent Romanoff.” Maria nodded at her.

“So, you two are interrogating the Iron Man?” Natasha asked in her husky voice. “Guilty until proven innocent?”

“That’s not how American justice works, Red,” Tony retorted, voice dripping sarcasm.

Natasha shrugged. “Kinda looks like vigilante justice to me. Believe me, you don’t want to cross her.” She nodded at Maria. “I’ve seen her get the truth out of hardened war criminals… and do a number of other things that don’t bear repeating.”

Tony eyed the SHIELD agent with newfound respect. “Is that so.”

“So what’d you do?” Natasha asked over her shoulder, opening the fridge.

“I didn’t d—” Tony’s indignant response died when he saw the Defcon 1 look on Pepper’s face. “I, uh… may have neglected to… enlighten Pepper about a new project of mine.”

“A multi-million dollar project funded directly by Stark Industries,” Pepper clarified.

“Of which SHIELD was also not informed,” Maria added.

Natasha whistled. “You done wrong, Stark.” She piled sandwich fixings onto the counter. “Better start spilling.”

In the simultaneous crosshairs of three extremely dominant women, even Tony Stark looked slightly uncomfortable. “Well… here’s the thing. I can give you some basics, but I can’t tell you everything.”

Pepper widened her eyes. “Ex _cuse_ me?”

“I can’t,” Tony repeated. He drew himself up. “I’m not personally sure what the exact ramifications of the project might be.”

Pepper reminded herself to take a deep breath. “Please tell me what you could possibly mean.”

Tony opened his mouth, closed it, and put both hands up in a “peace” gesture. “Okay, full disclosure. This isn’t a solo project of mine. I’ve been working on it with Bruce. You know—mild-mannered, incredibly brilliant, Jekyll-and-Hyde kind of guy?”

“Bruce?” Pepper repeated. “What—but why would Bruce want SI money?”

“Well, he asked me for an extension of capital, so,” Tony said, looking all _what-can-you-do_ , “I drew from Stark Industries funding.” At Pepper’s outraged noise, he exclaimed, “Hey, it’s my money!”

“It’s the _company_ money!” Pepper couldn’t believe she was having this conversation. “Money that’s tied up in _many_ areas, I’ll remind you! If any of it gets lost, or—”

“Pepper, I think it’ll be okay.” Tony looked at her, expression pacifying. “This is Bruce we’re talking about. He’s not me. He’s not really the type to gamble with someone else’s money.”

Pepper could think of a million sharp responses to that statement, ones making good use of the terms _margin of risk_ , _quality of investment_ , and _conflict of interest_ , but Maria spoke up first.

“So what _do_ you know about Bruce’s project? Would you say it’s accurate to call it predominantly Bruce’s project?”

Looking slightly relieved to be out of Pepper’s line of fire, Tony turned to Maria. “Yeah, I would. He said it’s a project for the Avengers, a matter of mutual interest. He outlined the basics but… it seemed pretty preliminary to me. He’s definitely not telling me everything.”

Maria drummed her fingers on the table. “So is there a reason you didn’t apply for SHIELD funding?”

“Because I didn’t know if what he’s doing is eligible for it, and I didn’t want to ask,” Tony replied honestly. He took a sip of coffee, eyes quickly flicking to Pepper.

“All right,” Maria said bluntly. “So what you’re saying is, I should have gone to Dr. Banner for particulars, not you.”

Tony grimaced. “Well… I wouldn’t do that. Bruce didn’t know it was company dough. He expects the project to stay on the down low.”

Pepper spluttered. “Tony, what—”

Maria cut her off calmly. “So we have a defense project of unknown capacity operating under the aegis of the Avengers, and you’re telling me we’re not allowed to ask any questions?”

“Look. I trust Bruce,” Tony said simply. “A, he’s a genius, and B, when he came to me for funds, he made it clear that whatever he’s planning, he’s doing it for the Avengers.” He leaned on the table, looking a little belligerent. “I should add that it took me a lot of persuading to get him to move in here, where he can have the kind of resources he deserves. So the _last_ thing I want is for Bruce to start feeling like he’s not welcome, or limited in his scientific work like he’s some specimen under observation. ‘Cause your group kind of specializes in that,” he added to Maria, whose jaw tightened.

Pepper jumped in hastily. “Okay, can we try to work together? I agree with you, Tony: Bruce deserves his scientific freedom. But at the same time, Mar—Agent Hill can’t let this go without at least getting a summary of his project’s intentions. Nor can Stark Industries,” she finished, trying to keep her voice neutral.

Tony drummed his fingers on the table. “Look, I’ll keep talking to him.”

“ _And_ you could file biweekly reports of what you’re able to learn, no matter how circumstantial,” Natasha prompted him, voice harsh but instructive.

Tony looked like he was about to protest, then thought better of it. “ _And_ …fine. I could do that too.”

“ _Good_ reports,” said Pepper. “With projections.”  

            Tony gave her a smile that said he knew when he was beat. Years with her had taught him something, after all. “Yep, I promise. Should we pinky-swear?”

Maria gave him a hard look. “Are you serious about this, Stark? I’ll be holding you to your word.”

“Do I have a choice?” Tony tried a winning smile, but stopped when he saw just how much that was not going to work. “Okay, yes, I am. It’s a deal.”

“Deal,” repeated Maria. “I expect your first report on Monday.”

Suddenly chummy, Tony stuck out a hand. “Nice doing business with you, Hill.”

“Oh, this isn’t the last time you’ll see me,” Maria responded, the lines of her body relaxing slightly. She looked at Tony’s hand with distrust, but coolly extended her own for a firm handshake. “As Agent Coulson is still in medical recovery, I’ve been named acting liaison to the Avengers. You’ll be seeing a lot of me.”

Tony’s mouth dropped open in a surprised laugh. “No kidding— _you’re_ the replacement agent?” He gave her a long appraising glance, and then quipped with a grin, “Why, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. Maria tilted her head, giving him a slightly questioning glance. She stood abruptly, pushing back her chair.

“I’m not your friend, Stark. I will see you, and you, Agent Romanoff, here tomorrow at eight A.M. Inform the rest of your team and be prepared for physical activity.” She nodded at Pepper, then turned for the door, heels clicking smartly on the linoleum.

“What, you’ve never seen _Casablanca_?” Tony called at her retreating back. “Grow a sense of humor! And some taste in classic movies!” He turned back, making a face. “She always like that?” he asked Natasha.

“Yes,” said Natasha. She bit into her sandwich. “But she was being nice.”  
 

 

 

And, just like that, Maria went from a barely-recognizable acquaintance to someone Pepper saw all the time. A lot of that had to do with the team-building initiatives the SHIELD agent put in place. She was always around Avengers Tower, dragging the team through some motivational exercise or carting them off for an afternoon of team sports. Despite Stark Industries’ demands, Pepper was so amused by the results that she almost always managed to be present for these activities, naming herself unofficial chaperone and den mother.

She learned quickly that Maria’s smiles were rare and special, and that she, Pepper, was one of their few recipients. Even when the team bonding exercises were going well—and they were generally prone to disastrous results—Maria kept a perma-scowl pasted on her face. Every time she saw it, Pepper couldn’t help but think of the conversation they’d had when they’d first met, and Maria expressing her doubts about whether or not the Avengers’ team could ever truly be successful.

Despite—or perhaps because of—those doubts, Maria had dedicated herself wholeheartedly to a team-building approach. This caused friction due only to her insistence on treating all the Avengers as equals, appreciating but not acting on each Avenger’s individual strengths. This military-based approach seemed to work, though Maria’s methods were… unique, to say the least.

The ropes course set up at the SHIELD gym, for example, was a piece of cake for Clint and Natasha, while Thor got so tangled that the team had to spend a good fifteen minutes extricating him as he dangled upside down, booming uncomfortably, “I do not enjoy this activity!”

Two truths and a lie turned into a showdown of poker faces between Tony (“I always go commando, I once slept with a transvestite—your guess as to which gender—and I’ve never shoplifted”) and Nat (“I’m allergic to latex, my favorite color is grey, and I don’t believe in sharing personal information”), while Steve revealed the admirable extent to which he could blush (“My favorite writer is John Steinbeck, I don’t like rutabaga, and…gosh, I can do a chorus-line kick?”).

Steve was, however, quite keen on campfire songs, as were Bruce, Thor, and Clint. Natasha refused to join in at first on the grounds that American songs were idiotic, but finally relented after she was allowed to teach everyone a few very melancholy-sounding songs in Russian.

Dodgeball actually turned deadly, with all of the hypersensitive reflexes and superstrength on one team. Maria intervened after Natasha brained Thor and didn’t look particularly sorry for giving him a bloody nose. “It’s not my fault that he’s big, slow, and only uses part of his peripheral vision,” the Russian spy pointed out, hands on her hips. This prompted Maria to deliver a long, grim lecture on how teamwork meant being mutually supportive, that any team was only as strong as its weakest member, and that she was pretty sure that being an asshole only had one cross-cultural definition, and that means _you_ , Romanoff. 

Tony, predictably, was terrible at anything that required working with others. After a few weeks, though, even he showed some improvement in team effort— especially, as Pepper explained to Maria, once you realized that he showed affection much like a teenage boy, and that his sabotaging the others really meant that he enjoyed their company.

Maria watched all proceedings with her arms folded across her chest, hanging back and barking out orders at regular intervals. Every time Pepper showed up at her elbow to watch, Maria would give her a quick glance and faint smile, just the corners of her lips. It felt like an honor. Nobody else got so many of Maria’s smiles.

One drizzly Friday, Maria had the team running laps at an underground SHIELD facility as a warm-up for soccer. Tony jogged up to where Maria and Pepper stood on the sidelines. “So, Hill, can I ask you a question?”

Tony liked Maria, and spoke to her with the slightly abrasive, assessing rapport that he used with everyone he liked. Unfazed, she always gave it right back to him.

 “You _can_. That doesn’t mean you _may_.” Maria glanced over his head at the field.

Bruce peeled away from the pack and came over. “Hey guys, what’s going on?”

“I’m asking our keeper a question,” Tony said.

Maria flicked her eyes between both of them, looking unimpressed.

“So what do you say we take a snack break? We’re playing soccer—did you remember to bring juice boxes? Goldfish? Fruit snacks? Whatever kids get to eat at their sports practices these days?” Tony smirked at her.

Maria frowned. “I may be your glorified babysitter, Stark, but you don’t need my—or anyone’s—encouragement to act like a child. Finish your laps.”

“Observe the alpha female dismiss the lowly beta,” intoned Bruce. Pepper started laughing at Tony’s exaggerated look of injury. Tony punched Bruce in the arm.

“Hey, buddy, you’re supposed to have my back.”

“Pick your battles, man,” Bruce said. “C’mon, beta brother. Let’s leave the alpha females alone.”

Tony made an exasperated face at Pepper: _can you believe this guy?_ She made one right back at him and waved a hand at him to shoo. “Go do your job.”

The men jogged away backwards, Tony sucking his thumb provocatively at Maria. “That’s two extra laps, Stark!” she yelled, looking put off.

“He likes you,” Pepper said, smile still on her lips.

“He likes pressing my buttons,” Maria corrected, folding her arms over her chest. “He has no respect for authority.” Her voice lacked edge, though, so she apparently wasn’t upset, just stating a fact.

“Well, everybody knows that. You’re good for him,” Pepper said. She gave Maria a sideways glance. “It’s nice not to be the only one on his case.”

Maria looked at her hard for a moment, and then turned her eyes back to the pack of Avengers. Only the relaxed set of her shoulders indicated she understood what Pepper was saying.

 

 

 

 

After a few weeks of Avengers team training, it seemed natural enough for the two women to exchange numbers, Pepper suggesting they go for a run that Saturday morning. Though she usually worked out in the Avengers Tower gym, it was always good to have a new workout buddy and a change of scene, and she didn’t think Maria would be interested in her weekly Piloxing classes. They ran sedately around Central Park in the chill October sunshine, zipped up in windbreakers and running pants. Neither was one for talking during running, which Pepper enjoyed.

After about six miles, they called it quits and purchased paper cups of coffee from a vendor. Steam from the drinks curled in lazy wisps into the air as they perched on a wooden bench and chatted.

“It really seems like the Avengers are coming together,” Pepper said, giving Maria a sideways look. She stretched her legs out in front of her, jiggling them a little to keep warm.

Maria wrinkled her nose slightly, her feet planted on the sandy ground. “You think? I feel like an idiot sometimes with all that team building. Good thing most of them aren’t up on modern American culture, ‘cause I’ve been cribbing those games from all sorts of places. Really—I’ve been reading the Girl Scout handbook for inspiration. Theatre theory books, for the movement exercises. The trust games came from a soccer camp I went to when I was twelve.”

Pepper started laughing. “SHIELD doesn’t have any resources you could use?”

“What, battlefield simulation courses and borderline emotional hazing? A team whose strongest moments are in the field wouldn’t benefit from any of that.” Maria dropped her head for a moment, then gave Pepper a wry sideways glance. “No. SHIELD excels at training individual agents. So I’m kind of winging it here. You should let me know if you have any suggestions.”

They sipped coffee in comfortable silence. “Where was soccer camp?” Pepper asked. It was strange to be talking about Maria’s personal life, since they’d only ever had work-related conversations, but Maria _had_ brought it up.

Maria looked a little surprised. “Ah—upstate Michigan.”

“Is that where you’re from?”

“No. Chicago.”

Pepper imagined skinny 12-year-old Maria in cleats, sweaty bangs sticking to her forehead. “Were you a tomboy?”

“I had three brothers, so yes.”

“Where are they now?” Pepper watched Maria’s face closely to see if she’d gone too far, if the other woman would clam up or change the subject, but the SHIELD agent was staring off into the distance, gaze lost somewhere in the grey fog.

“One’s in the Marines, one’s a lawyer, and one’s an auto mechanic. I called my brother to ask for corporate team building exercises.” Maria’s mouth pulled down wryly. “Two truths and a lie was his suggestion. I told him I’d been promoted to corporate management.”

Pepper was surprised. “So your family doesn’t…”

“They know I work for a defense agency. Just not in the line of battle.” Maria shrugged. “It’s simpler. They don’t worry about me.”

“But… your brother’s in the military.” Pepper considered how to phrase her next thought. “Maybe, since they’re used to having one person in the line of fire, they’d be able to support you—and it would be easier on _you_ to share the truth. You could share active duty experiences with your brother.”

“That’s all the more reason for them not to know: it’s one fewer person to worry about.” Maria sounded terse. “And my brother… he’s overseas in Kuwait. He’s fighting for domestic oil interests in a foreign land. I’m here wrangling demigods and fighting aliens. It’s not really the same thing.”

Pepper was struck by the defensiveness and isolation she heard. “Well... That sounds like it could get lonely,” she ventured, keeping her eyes on Maria’s face. "Do you have any one to talk to about your work?”

Maria looked at her, gaze hard and clouded. “Well, Fury and I don’t get along in terms of tactics. There are some other agents that agree with me. Generally, though, I don’t discuss work outside of work.”

“Well, you have the Avengers,” Pepper said firmly. If Maria was going to build this team, she’d better realize she was part of it. “And you have me.”

“I do?” Maria’s eyes raked her.

Pepper raised her eyebrows in response, smiling. “I count as work, don’t I? Kind of?”

Maria nodded slowly. She looked off at some point over Pepper’s shoulder for a moment and then met Pepper’s eyes. “Sure you do. Thanks.”

“Any time.” Pepper didn’t want to make Maria uncomfortable by dwelling on the subject, but it seemed like her emotional overture had been successful. She cleared her throat and said overly brightly, “Well, _I_ never went to soccer camp. Tennis was always my sport.”

Maria laughed, stretching an arm over the side of the bench. “Tennis, huh? How prep-school of you.”

Pepper hesitated, thinking of her decidedly working-class Pennsylvania family. “I was on full scholarship. Don’t jump to any conclusions.”

“So, what was the tennis team uniform? Little pleated mini-skirt, sleeveless polo?”

Pepper laughed, remembering. “Something like that.”

Maria’s voice was a little throaty. “Sounds cute. You still have it?”

There was something in that tone that took Pepper by surprise. “Yeah, it’s hanging in my closet. Apparently the ‘80s are coming back in style,” she parried quickly. Was she blushing? Yes, she was. She was blushing.

“Well, you’d know more about that than me.” Maria was watching her closely, blue eyes not as cool as they usually were.

“The trend is to just use a dash of it. The retro style, that is. It’s kind of a special occasion thing. You don’t, you know, use it all the time,” Pepper said. She realized she was babbling, and closed her mouth. The blush had spread to her neck, she could feel it.

“Just on weekends, right? I’d like to see it,” Maria said, and there was _definitely_ something in the way she tilted her head at Pepper and gave one of her little smiles. Oh, God, Pepper was not making this up. This was happening.

Pepper rested her arm on the back of the bench, head on her hand. “Oh, really,” she said playfully, with assurance that she didn’t feel.

“Yeah, really.”

Maria put her hand on the bench between them with that serious look, the one Pepper had learned could turn just as easily into a quicksilver smile as it could a frown. Right now, Pepper couldn’t tell what it might be—Maria’s eyes were hard, almost challenging. Pepper’s breath caught in her throat, suddenly realizing how close they were. She realized Maria’s eyes didn’t leave her face; her lips were pink, a little wet where she must have just licked them. Pepper’s heart slowed. She leaned forward.

A loud mechanical noise sounded and Pepper jumped. Blinking, she saw Maria draw away on the bench, pulling her phone out of her jacket. “This is Agent Hill.” She was firmly in work mode, the sparkle gone out of her face.

So much for that.

Pepper exhaled. _What was she doing?_ Her heart was still pounding, unbidden, stomach fluttering nervously. Had she just been about to kiss Maria Hill? She realized suddenly that she’d wanted to. She still wanted to. 

Maria snapped her phone shut and got to her feet. “We have to go. They’ve called an emergency meeting at SHIELD for the Avengers. It’s time-sensitive.”

Pepper’s mouth fell open in shock. “Wait, what? Right now?” She felt a stab of panic. “I can’t go like this.” She waved a hand to indicate her sweaty workout clothes, bare face, and messy ponytail. Yes, she knew she was high-maintenance, but it wasn’t just vanity—her CEO clothing was her armor, and she recognized its power. After all, she hadn’t gotten to her current position without looking like a force to be reckoned with.

Maria pursed her mouth. “Okay, I don’t want to stress you out. But we really don’t have time to stop. And you look great,” she said, more gently.

Pepper flushed. “Um. Okay.” It took her a moment to process that Maria had just told her she looked great. “I guess… I’ll just fix my hair in the taxi.”

“Good girl,” Maria said, tossing her paper cup in the nearest trashcan. She crossed behind Pepper as they moved briskly towards the nearest park exit, and Pepper felt a little shiver as she passed within a few inches of Pepper’s shoulder.

Oh, dear.

 

 

Tony, of course, loved seeing Pepper in her workout clothes. In his book, anything less than her usual formidable business wear was a step closer to undress. And he’d already made his partiality to her skintight workout pants known on multiple prior occasions.

“Hot Pepper!” he hooted as she stalked into the conference room, wearing her best CEO face in an attempt to counteract her unprofessional attire. Even the death glare she shot him didn’t shut him up. “Baby, you look _good_ ,” he said appreciatively as she took the seat next to him. Pepper swiveled in her chair and forcibly pressed a finger to his lips. “Enough,” she hissed. Across the table, Clint and Natasha exchanged amused glances.

“Miss Potts and I just finished a run in Central Park and didn’t have time to change,” Maria told the table as she swept to her seat, sleek as a panther in her all-black ensemble. “Commander Fury?”

Nick Fury wore the long-suffering expression of a man trying to herd cats. “I’m not sure why we had to hear that, but this meeting will come to _order_. Avengers, Miss Potts, agents.”

Everyone looked expectantly at him.

“It has _come_ to my _attention_ that Stark Industries is funding a multi-million dollar defense project worked on by Dr. Banner. This unknown quantity was _not_ briefed with SHIELD, and so, I have no alternative but to consider it potentially hostile to our interests.” Fury crossed his arms and glowered at all of them.

Bruce looked shocked. Pepper watched his face fall, as if slow motion, and a resigned look come over his face as, after a long moment, he opened his mouth to speak. But before he could, Tony literally flung an arm in front of his chest to stop him from saying anything and declared, “He doesn’t want to talk about it. I funded it, put the blame on me.”

Fury raised his eyebrows menacingly. “Oh, yeah? You think you can explain away $80 million of defense-grade chemical materials?”

“Hey, Fury, you know what? You need to stop being such a drama queen,” Tony said, with a completely straight face. He glared at the rest of the team, who were making no attempt to hide their _pot-and-kettle-much?_ expressions. “Really. Just because you have zero information on Bruce’s project doesn’t mean it’s a potential threat. It just says you have shitty data collection.”

Fury gave him a look.

“And,” Tony continued, “you’re setting up an irrational binary of friendly or hostile, when, in fact, his project could be neutral to you. And SHIELD, as a whole.”

Fury looked like he wanted to roll his one good eye. “Spare me the grandstanding, Stark. I want to know _why_ this project wasn’t briefed with me or Agent Hill.”

“Because it’s not the type of project that concerns SHIELD’s interests,” Maria spoke up suddenly. Everyone turned to look at her, but she didn’t waver, eyes locked on Fury. “This is a solo project that Dr. Banner is working on under the auspices and funding of Stark Industries. At this point there is no need for SHIELD to be involved.” She inclined her head. “But why are we repeating this conversation? You _know_ what I think, Commander—we discussed it in our previous briefing.”

“And I told you that you hadn’t gotten the right answer and needed to go back and finish doing your job,” Fury snapped.

 “So you decided to call an emergency meeting to wring the information you want out of Dr. Banner in front of his entire team? He doesn’t want to tell us the specifics of his project,” Maria said, matching his hostile tone. She got to her feet. “We have it on his confidence that it’s neither dangerous nor counter to our objectives—so there’s no reason for us to be monitoring it.”

Fury barked, “Oh, yeah? Remember what happened the last time Banner worked on a ‘project’ of this scale?”

“I think that’s unwarranted, Commander,” Maria responded coldly. “After all, the project to which you refer is the same one that endowed Dr. Banner with the qualities that made him eligible for the Avengers.”

“And here I thought they wanted me for my science,” Bruce murmured, in a weak attempt at humor. Out of the corner of her eye, Pepper saw Tony wince. 

“Dr. Banner can tell us what he wishes, and if it becomes clear that his project is relevant to SHIELD’s interests, we can intervene as necessary,” Maria went on, locking eyes with Fury. “Until that point, we can leave him in peace. We’d do well to remember that while the Avengers team may work for SHIELD, they are neither our property nor under our complete control. There is no reason for us to monitor their every actions.”

Pepper tried not to stare, but she couldn’t help admiring the lines of Maria’s body in her tight clothes and the tightly-coiled grace of her movements as she squared off with Fury. She was vaguely aware of the Avengers watching Maria as well, with various expressions of approval. Well, if everyone else was staring too then really it wasn’t such a big deal. It was normal. It was fine.

Fury raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s _your_ responsibility to keep this team in line, Hill. If you insist this isn’t an incident, fine. When he blows off the top of Stark Tower, though, then you’re gonna be reporting to me, and there’ll be some tough questions for you to answer.”

“Avengers Tower,” muttered Tony.

Fury raised his head and looked right at him. “Excuse me?”

Tony raised his voice. “Avengers Tower. That’s what we call it now. Unofficially. But as a matter of team etiquette, that’s its name.”

Maria gave him a quick glance of what might have been appreciation. She turned back to Fury, waiting.

Fury considered this and then snorted. “All right. I guess you all read bedtime stories to each other at night, too. Well, that’s enough for today. This meeting is ADJOURNED. Fury out.” He nodded briskly to the table at large and turned, sweeping out. There was a moment of stunned silence before everyone started talking at once.

“That’s it? I thought we were gonna get to fight somebody,” Clint grumbled, pushing back his chair.

“Oh, man,” said Bruce disbelievingly, rubbing his head in his hands. “ _Oh_ , man.”

“He was the one who gathered us as a team in the first place, so I don’t see why he’s so against us building morale!” Steve pointed out, looking bewildered and slightly put off.

“Ah, that fucker,” said Tony breezily. “Hill!” he exclaimed. “Well done. I didn’t expect that from you.”

Maria gave him a thin smile as she stood up. “What, you think I spend all my time with your ragtag band just for fun? Fury can’t build something up just to tear it down. I’m just doing my job—supporting the team that _he_ built.” She crossed the room, walking around the conference table. “And I’m sorry about that, Dr. Banner,” she said, looking at Bruce. “You must have been caught off guard. Apparently Stark didn’t tell you he was making your actions public knowledge.”

“It’s Bruce, please,” he responded, still looking mildly shocked. “And ah, _no_ , he didn’t. I guess I should have known that asking Tony Stark for funding might mean it would be Stark Industries money—but—”

“You just didn’t realize it came with strings attached,” Pepper broke in. She leaned over and gave him the kind-but-patronizing smile she used to school Tony. Not that she wanted to patronize anybody, but some habits were hard to break. “That’s what always happens at SI. Why do you think Tony’s so immune to criticism?”

“Rude,” said Tony, deadpan.

Across the table, Clint said pointedly, “So, Bruce, I respect your privacy and everything—especially since this meeting was basically about defending your basic right to it—but I’m curious. You want to tell us what this mystery project is about? Can we play some twenty questions here?”

Bruce gave an awkward laugh. “Yeah, first of all, guys, I completely apologize that we all had to get hauled in here on my behalf.” He rubbed his neck. “As for the project, uh… well, I’ve just set up the preliminary rounds of testing, and—”

Tony clapped him on the shoulder. “Bruce, man, you don’t have to tell us _anything_ until you’re ready. This is all on your own time. With the kinds of results you can achieve, you don’t need anyone breathing down your neck.” He pointed a finger at Clint, who threw his hands up in a _What? I was just asking_ gesture. Tony slapped a hand down on the conference table. “And you have Hill here to thank for that. But, hey—I’d better not get this kind of interference on _my_ projects the next time I start making a little noise in the lab,” he added warningly, cutting his eyes at Maria.

Maria didn’t blink. “Even Fury would call that a bad idea, Stark.”

Tony grinned at her. “Atta girl.”

The SHIELD agent gave him a look that, for her, was equivalent to an eye roll. She turned to Bruce, voice gentler. “When you’re ready to discuss your project, Bruce, you know how to reach me. I’ll do my best to keep Fury out of your hair, about this and hopefully everything else. Later, gentlemen.”

She walked the few steps to where Pepper stood, her entire body language shifting to something more relaxed, and a tiny bit suggestive. She took Pepper’s arm and led her towards the door. “Pepper. Today was fun—before we got interrupted.”

Pepper’s face broke into a painfully obvious blush at the proximity and the touch, physically disappointed when Maria stopped a few feet from the conference table and released her grip. Over Maria’s shoulder she could see Tony laughing and clowning with Bruce; everyone else was lost in conversation. She turned her gaze to Maria’s eyes, tilting her head back to Maria’s slightly greater height.

“Yes, it was—it was fun. We’ll have to—we should do it again sometime, absolutely.” Pepper’s voice sounded squeaky in her own ears; she felt like she was being ridiculously, conspicuously awkward. She sternly reminded herself to get it together, they were in a room full of people—but there was something about that serious look of Maria’s, the one that could turn just as easily into a smile as into a frown, the one that Maria was giving her _right now_ , that made certain parts of Pepper’s brain stop working.

The corner of Maria’s mouth pulled up into a tiny smile. She raised her hand again to Pepper’s upper arm, fingers curling around the side, pad of her thumb trailing downwards with light vertical pressure. Even through her clothes, Pepper felt it like a shock.

Maria paused her hand. “Yes. We should,” she repeated, eyes not leaving Pepper’s. Her body was still, but Pepper could feel the power behind the relaxed fingers poised on Pepper’s arm. That hand needed to move about two feet higher, to push Pepper’s hair behind her ear, cup the side of her face, and—

Pepper’s eyes flicked guiltily at Tony over Maria’s shoulder. Maria caught the glance and dipped her head knowingly.

“Well. I should go.” Maria stepped back to a professional distance. Her eyes disagreed.

“I, ah, I’m free this week,” Pepper heard herself saying. “I’m very free. Don’t you have that Avengers meeting on Tuesday?”

Maria nodded, her eyes steady. “See you there?”

“See you there,” said Pepper breathlessly.

Pepper didn’t even try to stop herself from watching Maria stride out of the conference room, all long legs and lithe body. When the other woman was finally out of sight, she closed her eyes hard and sighed.

This was either going to end very well or very badly.

 

 

 

Back at Avengers Tower, the team was abuzz about Maria standing up to Fury. The general consensus was that this was a SHIELD agent worth keeping around.

Pepper sat in an armchair in the spacious living room, nursing a Diet Coke. Hearing other people talk about Maria felt like an illicit thrill. She knew she wasn’t supposed to get that dizzy ripple of butterflies every time she heard Maria’s name, but... Listening with studied casualness, she couldn’t stop herself idly trailing her fingers up and down her left arm, retracing the lines Maria’s fingers had drawn.

“I told you,” Natasha said simply. “She was one of SHIELD’s best covert field ops, extremely technically skilled, so they put her in administration. But she’s going to be running the place some day.”

Clint nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve done some missions with her, haven’t you Nat? Cape Town?”

Natasha nodded. “Yes, and she’s damn thorough, very by-the-book—one of those who lives and breathes SHIELD protocol. Like you, Steve, she’s a soldier.”

Steve was seated in an armchair with the semiformal air he never seemed to lose. “A soldier who stands up to her commanding officer? That’s an unusual soldier.”

Nat pulled down the corners of her mouth, acknowledging the point. “Well, she’s never jived with Fury. I guess her support of our team overrules her deference to him. Like she said, we _are_ the major part of her job now.”

Pepper sipped her mineral water. “Which missions did you go on together, Natasha?” she asked casually, tamping down the interest in her voice.

Nat gave a wry smile. “I’m not really supposed to say. But big mouth over here already told you about Cape Town; that was several years ago. We also collaborated on operations in Barcelona, Seattle, and Dubai, among other locations.”

Pepper immediately imagined Maria relaxing on a Spanish beach in a very abbreviated black bikini. Wait, wasn’t topless sunbathing was completely normal in Europe? She bit her lip, hard. Oh, bad idea. Bad, _bad_ idea to think about that right now. 

Tony swept by on his way back from the drinks cart, dropping a perfunctory kiss on the side of Pepper’s head. “Well,” he said, settling himself on the sofa with his glass of bourbon, “now we know we’ve got at least one person pulling for the Avengers. Besides us.”

“Uh, you mean besides the general public of America and the world?” Clint pointed out. He held up the Stark tablet he’d been playing with and turned it to display several major news sites’ home pages, toggling through the screens with the pad of his finger. “It’s been over a month since Loki tore up Midtown and we haven’t made a public appearance since, but look at the headlines. We’re still top news.”

Tony chuckled. “No, no, Legolas. Those people believe in us the way they believe in the tooth fairy. We’re just mythical creatures who saved them from scary monsters. Hill knows what goes on behind the scenes—and that’s a hell of a lot scarier than what the public sees. She’s _willingly_ pulling for us, warts and all.”

“I do not wish to quarrel, friend Tony, but my deeds _have_ been recorded in the ledger of myth,” Thor said with dignity. “But I agree. Hill is a great warrior and showed much fierceness on our behalf today.” Tony tipped his glass at him.

“So who thinks she’s going to keep going with the team-building exercises?” asked Steve.

“Well, look at us now, all sitting around and discussing this together,” Bruce said mildly. “She’s gotten what she wanted, hasn’t she? We’re conferring as a team, which is real progress. After this, she may just assume her liaison role; with the way Fury sounded today, she’ll probably keep busy doing damage control. I just don’t understand how Fury could be so adamant about bringing us together as a team and then treat us… well, me, I guess… like a naughty schoolboy. I’m sorry again for making us all get called in, guys,” he added for the fourth time in the conversation, to the lazy answering chorus of, “Shut up, Bruce.”

“He’s trying to maintain control,” Steve said matter-of-factly. “It’s a military thing. There’s a real psychology to power. Some commanding officers lead quietly; some are real bullies. My guess is he wanted to make a big show of power to keep us from feeling, I don’t know, like we didn’t need the team anymore. I doubt he was even that concerned about the contents of your project, Bruce.”

Tony looked at him thoughtfully. “I think you’re onto something, old man. Fury likes having a tight hold on the reins, and we all know he’s got unorthodox methods. So if we’re going to be under SHIELD’s watch, it’s much better dealing with Hill than old One-Eye. Plus, she’s kind of a fox,” he added, giving a naughty leer in Pepper’s direction. 

Pepper almost hurt herself trying to paste the expected disapproving look on her face, one with absolutely no hint of her internal “I _know_ , right?”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Yes, Tony, objectify your female co-workers so you can be completely blindsided when they demonstrate their actual capabilities. That’s what happened with me, right?”

“BURN!” said Clint, laughing. He petted Natasha’s hair affectionately. “I love that story.”

Tony cleared his throat exaggeratedly, set down his drink, and checked his watch. “Aaaand look at that—it’s lunchtime.” He opened his arms to the group. “Who wants schawarma?”

At the happy look on his face, Pepper’s breath caught. That was her boyfriend, her handsome, ne’er-do-well, errant genius boyfriend of a year and a half, and boss for over ten. As aggravating as he could be, for all the ways he knew how to get under her skin, his genuine happiness was something that never failed to move her.

She set her drink on the side table and crossed to the couch where Tony sat, bending down to kiss his open mouth in a rare show of PDA.

“I’m going to pass on lunch, I still have to shower and get cleaned up,” she said softly, stroking his head. “You want to bring me something?”

Never one to pass up affection, Tony cupped her face and kissed her again, unembarrassed. “Sure, baby, I will,” he said easily. “See you later.”

Pepper ducked her head, feeling a knot turning in her stomach, the kind that meant she had a _lot_ of thinking to do and, luckily, a hot shower in which to do it. “Bye, guys,” she said sweetly to everyone as she crossed the room, feigning unconcern. “Have fun.”

 

 

 

That night in Tony’s bed, the heated semidarkness smelled of musk, sex, and denial. Pepper stared at the wall for ten minutes, taking steady deep breaths, before she made a decision. She rolled onto her side, pulling the Egyptian cotton sheet up to cover her naked chest. “Tony?”

“Mmhuh?” he said beside her.

There wasn’t any easy way to say this, so Pepper was just going to say it.

“I think we should take another break.”

Flat on his back, Tony gave a heavy sigh. “It was that bad, huh?” he glumly asked the ceiling.

Pepper swallowed a nervous laugh. “It wasn’t the sex, Tony—the sex was great, as always. It’s just…”

Tony turned over and looked at her. For a moment she was the sole center of his attention, unsettling due both to its intensity and its rarity. Even in their most intimate moments Tony’s focus was usually fragmented: one part with her, the other off in genius-land, inventing new languages, solving multidimensional complexities, things she’d never hope to understand.

“I just think it might be time to see other people for a change,” she finished her sentence, with a calmness she didn’t feel.

Tony regarded her, serious but puzzled. “Did I do something? Because I’m sorry…. whatever it is, Pep, I’m _really_ sorry. I’m sorry about not spending enough time with you—and sometimes coming to bed without showering…or not coming to bed at all. And I know I haven’t given you flowers for a while, but I can, you know.” Inspired, he went on, “I’m sorry about the funding thing—is that it?”

“No, no. Tony.” She kneaded his shoulder with her fingertips. “It’s not you, or anything you did. I just thought we could both use something… different, for a while. Just as a change.”

There was a pause as Tony processed.

“You promise I didn’t do anything,” he repeated finally.

Pepper’s heart squeezed. “Nothing,” she insisted, hating how the false note in her voice sounded like denial. Damn it, if anything was true about this conversation it was that fact.

Tony looked like he didn’t believe that answer. “ _O_ kay. So how long is a while?”

Pepper took a deep breath. “It’s… until we decide it’s been long enough.”

Tony put her on the spot for ten excruciating seconds, studying her face with his chocolate brown eyes. Though he spoke multiple languages, including Latin and computer binary, his fluency in advanced Pepper had always been a little less than perfect. Maybe that was why he let this go, backing away from the emotional wall she was putting up. He tilted his head a few degrees in what was obviously supposed to be a carefree head cock and pulled a thoughtful face. “So… okay. We’re taking time to see other people.” His voice was overly casual. “Well, Cap _does_ have a nice ass.”

Pepper groaned, feeling guiltily grateful that he hadn’t protested more. “One, I already knew that Captain America was _literally_ your childhood wet dream, thanks to your share-everything policy. And two, you’re not supposed to start talking about who you’d like to sleep with when we’re still having a conversation about taking a break. It’s insensitive.”

“Oh, we’re not supposed to talk about it, eh?” Tony raised his eyebrows not-entirely-innocently at her. “Why, do _you_ have someone in mind?”

Pepper opened her mouth and shut it, soundlessly. _No. Yes. Possibly yes but I don’t know._

If she couldn’t even properly acknowledge her feelings about Maria Hill to herself, then there was no way on earth she was going to tell Tony about them.

Tony pressed the question. “It’s not another one of the Avengers, is it? Because really, it doesn’t get better than me. None of ‘em.”

“Not even Cap and his nice ass?” she teased.

“He’s not good enough for you.”

“Oh, he’s good enough for you, but not for me, is that it?” Pepper said, mock offended.

“ _No one’s_ good enough for you, Pep,” Tony said solemnly. He gave her a steady look. Seeing the undisguised hurt in his brown eyes, she thought, _Fuck, Pepper, what are you doing?_ She hadn’t known it was possible to feel this selfish.

“So… what is this, our last night?”

“Don’t say that,” Pepper said automatically—and mentally kicked herself for saying it. Why couldn’t she just be strong enough to break things off completely? But no. She was doing this based on a shadow of a crush, something that she wasn’t even sure existed. In a month’s time she and Tony could be back together, as if nothing had ever happened… right? They were taking a break to answer (her) unresolved questions. It was the right thing to do.

Rolling over, Pepper pressed up close to Tony’s chest, making him the big spoon. She could feel the cool metal of the arc reactor against her back.

“’Kay,” Tony mumbled into her neck. His voice sounded tired, defeated. He wrapped one strong arm around her waist, and she closed her eyes briefly.

“I’ll never love anyone like I love you, Tony,” she whispered. She was surprised at herself for being so maudlin, but she meant it. There was a part of her heart that responded only to Tony Stark; years of her life were tied up in him. Their bond was obviously why she’d implied that Tony should be taking this development more lightly than he maybe should be. And that was problematic.

She wasn’t so sure that this “break” was going to be temporary. 

**Author's Note:**

> (edited 2/14/13)


End file.
